All That Was Fair
by paleher
Summary: Based off the general show, but with a different storyline. Claire finds Frank in an unforgivable act, and sets off to Craigh Na Dun, and through the stones to claim a new life. Rated M for possible sex scenes later on.
1. Betrayed

All That Was Fair

Inverness was an interesting holiday spot, to say the least, though I knew that Frank was here more for the bodies that lay in the ground here in Scotland than the living one that shared his bed. While he overlooked crumbling records from centuries long passed, I browsed shops filled with new wares, business prosperous after the Great War's long years of uncertainty and fear. I was content with being set aside during Frank's history sessions, for I cared little about Frank's ancestor. He loved dead things and I loved the living plants. That was the way it was going to be until we became like we were wed again. I feared that our relationship would never spark again, and I was trying. Our home in Oxford would probably be the place to start. Passing by a quaint shop just off the main drag, the window filled with bright hues of blues and violet. In the centre, a set of vases, blue as the sea and sky. I marveled at how beautiful they would look on a mantle with white roses spouting from their mouths, so with determination, I bought them. After looking at the time, I figured Frank would be nearly done his session with the Vicar, so I made my way the few blocks to his home to catch the last of the drivel. Vases propped in one arm, I knocked.

The Vicar looked surprised to see me, squinting against the weak sun fighting its way through the clouds. "Mrs. Randall, what a surprise. Where's Frank?"

I gave him an incredulous look, hand on my hip. "Frank told me he would be here this afternoon, so I'm coming by to see how the search is going. Did he step out?" His weathered face and bright gray eyes told me everything before he even shook his head. "Nae, he hasnae been here all day, maybe he fell ill."

I stiffly nodded and apologized for the interruption. I was anxious the entire walk back to the inn, wondering what blasted cold my husband caught this time. I made my way up the creaky steps and jiggled the key in the door before pushing it open with my hip, vases in hand, when I noticed two bodies in our bed instead of one. The vases plummeted to the floor as both figures shot up. "What in the bloody hell is this, Frank?" I exclaimed, though my breath was taken from me. The woman looked vaguely familiar, until I recalled the day I was deployed back to the front lines. She had been on the train platform watching us as Frank sent me off. He even introduced her. Jane McReary. Colleague, trusted friend. I picked up a lamp from the table and threw it above his head, porcelain shattering onto the bed.

"Claire, please stop. You know as well as I that the War-" He was cut off as I threw another lamp, this time clipping McReary in the shoulder, she cried in pain, her green eyes glaring, but saying nothing. She turned her blonde head away in what looked like shame. Frank's eyes were like glass, not yet broken in my fury. My anger subsided enough to pull off my wedding band and toss it at him as I left. He expertly caught it as a sob caught in my throat. "Claire!" I heard him, but he had already lost me forever. I then realized that this was why he had come to Inverness. I took the car and drove, away from Frank, from Jane McReary and her marriage wrecking ways, away from Inverness. I found my way to a landmark stone pointing to what appeared to be a small stonehenge, and recalled the inn's matron speak of it. Craigh na Dun, shrouded in early evening fog. I went up, climbing the steep hill it sat on and then plopping myself down next to a massive stone. I picked small daisies and plucked the tiny petals, tears quietly running down my cheeks. After a while, I stood, tracing my fingers along each stone as I circled them. The stones were ancient and weathered by time, and they felt as if they were humming with life. As I got closer to the centre, the stones vibrated strongly, the buzzing filling my ears and overwhelming my senses. I fell into the centre stone and everything only became louder and darker until suddenly, peace.


	2. 1743

1743

I found myself slumped against the same stone I must have fainted at, though everything seemed different. Quiet. Birds flew overhead, but there were no planes, only fluffy clouds dotting the deep indigo, spotted with thousands upon thousands of stars. One couldn't see such stars unless there were no electricity for miles. Wait, hadn't it been completely cloudy? The moon had ascended over the horizon of the wild Highlands. I made my way down the treacherous path back to the car, but found only trees and grass as I groped around in the dark. The sound of thunder was enough to have me running, back toward Inverness, back toward Frank. Only minutes later did I find that it was not thunder, but hooves upon hardened ground that startled me. Upon a large beast was a Highlander in full regalia, a sight to behold. He had graying hair and a moustache over a ruddy, weathered face. Behind him, several younger men, swords drawn, eyes and bodies weary. I cut in front of them and the horse reared, just as frightened of me as I was it. The leading man called after me words I could not decipher as adrenaline filled my veins and I sprinted into the thick trees, away from the men. I ran and ran, slipping in mud and over loose rocks until I became trapped at a rock wall, towering several feet above my reach. Water leaking from the stones made them slippery and too dangerous to climb, so I slumped against it, lungs aching, examining the small cuts forming on my arms and exposed legs from bramble and thorns. My dress, once white, now beige and stained with mud and grass. I could no longer hear hooves or yelling men, but I knew they were not far behind. I relaxed slightly, resting my racing heart before setting off in search of civilization. After several minutes, the quiet bustle of the night forest ceased, followed by a shuffle in the distance and a branch snapping. One of the men on horseback must've found me. I muttered obscenities under my breath as I realized there was nowhere to hide. I grapsed at the cold slick rocks in desperation, but to no avail. Through the bushes came a strikingly familiar man dressed in historical british army uniform. His long brown hair tied back, exposing the all too familiar jawline and small, deep set eyes of my husband.

"Frank, you bloody bastard!" I yelled, lashing out. Frank seemed amused if anything. He advanced toward me in a slick manner, like a snake cornering a cowardly mouse. Trapped against the rocks, I leaned as far away from him as possible, not meeting his gaze.

He looked me over, holding my chin up to examine my features in the weak moonlight. "Whoever Frank is, he's certainly an unlucky man to have wronged you, Madam…" He trailed off, leaving my name in question. "Perhaps some coin and a feather bed at the fort will make you forget all about him."

I pushed him away, mouth agape. "Do not take me for a whore!" This angered him, slamming me against the rocks by my throat hard enough for my vision to go red. The stars behind him blurred as he rasped into my ear.

"We'll see about that. A sensible lady doesn't go for a jaunt in the woods in but her shift." The soldier brushed his free hand up my thigh, under my thin dress. I lurched away from him, struggling with all my might as he unmercilessly degraded me. I thrashed harder, making his advances as difficult as possible until he pulled out a small dagger, placing it first on my thigh, right over a major blood vessel. I would bleed out in but minutes. He then dragged the tip of it up, deep enough to cause scarring but not enough to maim, leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake as he sliced up the dress, before then resting it on my throat. I stilled; this man knew how to kill. "Now, whore. Are you ready to behave for your coin, or must I force you?" I gritted my teeth in response, clenching my thighs together as best I could. The solider then grabbed me by my hair, dragging me down to my knees. I sobbed, but no sound came out. A single tear escaped, but I refused to let this sick bastard take pleasure in it. As he pulled my head up to look at him, a hulking figure tackled him from above, allowing me to slip from his reach and hide in the thick brush surrounding the area. The assailant was the hulking grayed man from the road. His group was not far behind, one spotting me. Too defeated to resist, the red haired lad scooped me up and skirted around where the solider and highlanders fought. Several horses waited patiently, scuffing at the earth and occasionally snorting. My saviour, or captor, tossed me easily over one before mounting smoothly himself. Though lean and tall, he was all hard sinew and muscle, lithe and strong. He had a mop of red curls atop his head, strong jaw and thin nose, and clear green eyes. He waited, ignoring my demands to know who he was and where he was taking me, as the clashes of swords died down. One by one, Highland men came forth from the trees, speaking in what I now recognized as Gaelic. They seemed vigilant but light spirited. I wondered if any of these men even knew English, but persisted in my pursuit of knowledge.

"Excuse me, who are you? I demand to know where you are taking me!" I called to the leading man. He barely gave a grunt as my rider finally responded.

"Dinnae worry, for now. You're safe from Black Jack now. As for who he is, he's the War Chieftain for clan MacKenzie, Dougal. He's takin' ye back to Castle Leoch tae see the MacKenzie."

"And you are?" I retorted.

"Jamie McTavish, Mistress." I nodded slowly, taking in the smelly men surrounding me. Each dirty, rugged face becoming harder to decipher as I fell into a deep sleep as a stranger guided me away from Inverness on horseback.

Dawn was near as I awoke to being lifted from the saddle, my thighs chapped, the long cut made from the soldier called Black Jack ached with what I hoped wasn't going to be an infection. We had stopped at a small dilapidated hut that had a steady stream of smoke spouting from a small chimney. Many of the men must have been inside already, as Jamie was the only one left outside. The Scot examined my sliced dress and dried blood before sweeping me off my feet and bringing me inside before I could even catch my breath. Before setting me down, he pulled off his kilt to lay me down on. Unlike him, it did not reek. It smelled of must, sweat, and earth. Seeing his face for the first time in some light, Jamie McTavish was a sight to behold. His fine facial features were complemented by the firelight in the tiny hut. He moved to examine my cut, and I flinched away from his touch.

"Allow me, Sassenach. I wilnae hurt you on purpose. Ye'll be safe wi' me." I breathed slowly, nodding to him. The gash began mid thigh, running inward and up over the hipbone, crossing over the previously unmarred surface of my flat stomach, under and around the outside of the breast before tracing over the collarbone. It would be quite the scar, but would not require stitches. The other men had turned away, uncomfortable with my bared flesh. "I cannae express how sorry I am, Sassenach." Jamie's eyes seemed filled with rage. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he winced. I lifted my hand to see blood blossom on his filthy tunic.

"What happened to you?" I exclaimed, pushing his shirt off his shoulder to get a better look. The flesh around the gash was angry and red, oozing thin blood. Moving around him, I saw what looked to be a massive patch of scar tissue on his back. Peering down his shirt in the dim light, I saw the carnage that was his back. Once as beautiful as the rest of him I imagined as I pulled the shirt off as gently as I could, murmuring apologies as he flinched when I brushed against the old wounds. It looked like he'd been grotesquely flayed, large crevices where flesh had been stripped, now white and pink marbled scars. I didn't want to linger on the cause of such destruction, but my mind couldn't help but wander.

Jamie McTavish gave me a sly grin, minced with pain. "Tis but a scratch, Mistress…"

"Beauchamp, Claire Beauchamp. And no, this must be looked after, or you'll die from infection." I glanced at the men gawking behind us, trying their best to avert their gazes from my exposed flesh. "I need clean bandages and something sterile to clean this wound, alcohol, perhaps." They hesitated but a moment before I put on my stern nurse face, which got them moving.

"Are ye a healer, Mistress Beauchamp?" The leader, Dougal, enquired. He was the only man to not have moved at my orders. The other men brought me scraps of linen, but all too filthy to be used. I received a flask of whiskey from Jamie himself as I ordered another man to boil rags.

"Of sorts, sir. I'm no physician but I'm all too familiar with battle wounds. Looks like some sort of knife slashed right through, maybe a few days ago. Whatever it was, it obviously hasn't been cared after one bit." I gave Jamie a condescending look which he casually shrugged off. The rags had been boiled to my satisfaction as I soaked one in whiskey, pouring some directly on the wound itself to cleanse it. Jamie winced and stiffened at the pain, but I continued on, pressing the rag into the gash, finding puss and old blood in the crevice. It already looked better after being cleaned, but there was nothing else I could do further until I had access to medicines.

"What's a healer doin' running 'round the woods in nothing but her shift in the middle o' the night?" Dougal stood, filling the small hut with his presence.

I had been hoping to avoid the unavoidable in this conversation. Not knowing where I was going or whether these men would kill me, I had to make my story believable. I had the feeling that this was not the twentieth century, but if not, when? I hadn't heard a single car engine, not a single plane overhead, and these men were dressed as Highlanders. Thinking back to Frank's research, it hit me. Black Jack, Jonathan Randall, Commander of a fort here in Scotland during the uprising. This had to be the mid eighteenth century. I summoned all my knowledge of the time before answering the War Chief. "I was travelling through, offering my services when I was attacked by bandits. My assistant was killed or taken, as were all my belongings and wealth."

"And yer clothes off yer back as well, lass?" Another man, whose name I did not know, retorted.

Offended, I whirled to face the man, but before I could speak, Jamie piped up in my defense. "Have some respect fer the lass, Murtagh. We found her runnin' then cornered by Black Jack himself. Need I remind ye of wha' he does te folk?" I assumed he meant his back, which was confirmed by the sudden silence of all the men, even Dougal. I mouthed a thank you to Jamie, who nodded in return.

After a moment, Dougal looked up and met my gaze. His steely eyes pierced through mine. "The sassenach must be presented to Colum. If ye believe her, vouch for her then, young Jamie. She'll be needin' it." I shuddered before setting myself back down on a stool by the fire next to Jamie. He put his hand on my shoulder, the weight reassuring. "Now rest up, the lot of ye. We'll ride again come dusk, an' make it back to Leoch by dawn."


	3. Leoch

Leoch

Castle Leoch was nestled on a grassy knoll overlooking the forest and river. The keep was tall, its walls made of thick stone bricks as gray as the sky above. Though it was just before dawn, the courtyard was bustling with life. We slowed our horses upon entering, Jamie assisting me in my dismount as Dougal kept a watchful eye over me. The castle folk gawked as I was led in to meet the Clan Chief, Colum. On our way in, a buxom older woman stopped Dougal in his tracks.

"An' who is this, Dougal? You cannae expect this poor lass te stand before Colum in scraps! Have ye nae respect?"

Dougal looked at his feet, obviously grinding his teeth. "I 'spose ye can dress her proper, Mrs. Fitz. But dinnae take long; Colum will be wantin' to see the Sassenach. Mrs. Fitz then ushered me into a room further into the castle, but with all the halls looking the same, I would scarcely be able to make an escape without a guide, so I obediently followed. For a woman of her rotund shape, she moved as quickly as she spoke. In a guest room, she filled a basin with hot water and sponged me off, magically producing a poultice for my wounds from the folds of her massive dress.

"Dinnae fear, Sassenach. Colum is less savage than that Dougal. He's a fair man, and I'm certain ye will be welcome at his table once he's seen what I've done wi' ye." She murmured as she pulled through the tangles of my hair. I was glad for her chatter, giving me some space to think without having to respond.

After what couldn't have been more than an hour, Mrs. Fitz led me back to the main hall where Dougal, Colum, and Jamie were waiting. The hall itself was massive, obviously meant for court and feasts, it had high ceilings and plenty of light from the massive hearth to the left and the torches placed on the columns that led to alcoves between the kitchen. The room was warmly decorated with fine tapestries and stained glass windows in the far end behind Colum's chair. Jamie's eyes lit up as he saw me properly dressed and clean, and Dougal seemed to soften up now that he realized I was finer than I had been in the dark. "Colum, this is the Sassenach I spoke of, Claire Beauchamp. A healer." Dougal announced as I gave my best curtsy without dislodging the bandaging work Mrs. Fitz had done.

"I see her, brother. Ye may take yer leave for now. The young Jamie stays." Dougal began to protest, but obeyed, glaring at me on his way out. Colum turned his attention on me as Jamie moved to take my side where Mrs. Fitz had been, but had puttered off into the kitchens without another word.

"So, Sassenach. Young Jamie here says ye were rescued from Black Jack." I tried my hardest not to stare as Colum rose from his chair. His legs were thin, bowed out, it must have been excruciating to stand, never mind walk or ride a horse.

"Yes, lord. I am most grateful for the generosity and hospitality shown to me since arriving into your men's care. Words cannot express how thankful I am for their bravery and honor." Until then I hadn't realized how much worse my situation could have been. These men hadn't had to treat me like a lady, they could have easily taken Jonathan Randall's route, yet they hadn't.

Colum came down the few steps from his chair to examine me further. "Ye are no Beaton, but ye say ye were a travellin' healer. For whom?"

"Anyone who had the money or a need, my lord. I take no sides unless I know the person to want to do harm." Colum seemed to accept this answer with an intelligent nod. He had long gray hair tied back in a traditional English fashion, a long, pointed nose, and wise blue eyes. He was at the very least a head shorter than his warrior brother, though he carried himself with the dignity of a king.

"And young Jamie, yer account of that night?" I breathed a sigh of relief as the MacKenzie's attention shifted away from me, as Jamie returned to the night before, my attempt at tending to his wound, my bravery despite the situation, and his wholehearted belief of my honesty. Colum listened intently, still watching my reactions to the reenactment. I had the feeling that Dougal had sown the seeds of distrust in Colum, but he was eager to name Jamie my sponsor for my time at Castle Leoch. From their half English half Gaelic conversation, I had only gathered that they may be kin of sorts, which is why I was entrusted to Jamie rather than Dougal, whose name came up several times, almost as if it were meant to be a secret. Fourty five minutes later, I was shown to my new chambers, right next to Jamie's.

I plopped myself heavily down on the featherbed, cursing the corset that Mrs. Fitz had masterfully suffocated me with as my mind struggled to comprehend my completely unreal situation. Was there any way I could play the simple court of Highlanders into believing that I was but a simple Sassenach healer?

Jamie McTavish intrigued me; he was intense with his gaze, yet gentle in touch. He had been marred so horribly yet still showed kindness. After spending what felt like several lifetimes in war hospitals, I never imagined seeing one so hurt still wholeheartedly crave life. I quickly learned from Mrs. Fitz that Jamie broke in horses while at Castle Leoch, though by the stench of him at the end of the day, I'd have wondered if he wrestled pigs. At dinners in the main hall, I found myself searching for him, though as my sponsor, he was never really far away.

"Don't you hate it?" I asked him one day, a fortnight after I had arrived on Colum's land.

Mouth half full, Jamie stopped chewing his venison as fast to scrounge up a respectful answer. Lately he seemed more comfortable with being around me, and I had begun the practice of bringing him dried jerky and cheeses at midday. I'd always be early so I could watch him around the horses. That day he had just finished when he led the gorgeous red horse to the edge of the paddock for a warm down type walk when he slowed to wave, though the horse was impatient and ended up swinging its head into Jamie's with an audible _thunk._ The aftermath was clearly visible now, with a swollen lower lip and brow.

"Weel, lass, if ye mean followin' you in my spare time, then nay." He stated, popping a chunk of bread into his mouth thoughtfully. "Despite bein' bone tired from your escapades, ye make decent company." He nodded matter of factly before adding, "for a Sassenach."

I threw my own chunk of bread at him from across the table, which he deftly caught and ate with a crooked grin. "You aren't bad company yourself, for a Scot." I retorted.

Later the same evening, I was summoned to Colum's chambers, alone. I sat in his adjoining study, anxious that he had uncovered my secrets, or that I had lied to him. Several minutes passed before he joined me, hobbling to his desk. "Mistress Beauchamp, I trust that you've settled nicely here." He began, taking his seat.

"Very well, my lord. I am still so grateful for your generosity." I stood and curtsied, which he waved away.

"No need for that in private, Mistress." Colum gestured for me to sit again. "I've been wantin' to speak wit' ye regarding yer intentions." He said, bluntly, with his hands folded firmly on his desk.

"Regarding, my lord? I don't quite follow."

"Whether ye plan te stay here at Castle Leoch or not."

At that point I hadn't given the subject much thought, with acclimatizing to my new time. "Please, lord, tell me if I've worn out my welcome. I mean not to intrude where I do not belong."

"Ah, Sassenach, it's not that. I was wonderin' if ye would be interested in settling down, bein' the MacKenzie healer, getting that Jamie off yer back. His reports deem ye trustworthy in my books. Thinks very highly of ye, in fact."

"Would I be able to think about this offer, lord? It's quite a decision."

With that, Colum stood, leading me out. "Absolutely, Mistress. Let me know next week what ye decide."


	4. Decisions, Decisions Have to Wait

Authors Note: Thank you all for your kind words and follows. My life has been super tumultuous and I've been so uninspired lately that I just couldn't write for a loong time. I'm going to try to make this a regular installment and continue. THIS STORY WILL NOT BE ABANDONED. Thank you all so much!

I had spent the week that Colum Mackenzie had given me by surveying every escape route in Leoch that I could find in between appeasing both the Mackenzie himself and drawing no further attention by spending afternoons with Jamie as per the usual. The Clan leader himself seemed an intelligent, firm man who could provide me with a standing to be able to make it in this upside-down world, but his brother, Dougal, made my blood run cold.

While in deep thought, counting the number of lefts and rights through the dusty hallways before the next staircase, I ran smack into the War Chieftan, whose shiny, bald head towered above my own. "My apologies, sir." I stammered as I backed into the dark wood panelled wall. From this angle, it was hard to tell if he was actually glaring at me or not, though I didn't venture to ask him.

Dougal Mackenzie leaned in, so close that his bushy grey mustache and beard tickled my ear. My forearm held by his massive paw he called a hand. "Ah dinnae ken whit yer daein' here, Sassenach." He hissed, "bit ah have mah eeye on ye.". In that moment, I wanted to wail, scream for help, as he lowered his head. His hot, rancid breath scalding my skin as my blood ran cold. He breathed in, almost lustily, moving his hand to cup a breast. Too shocked to move, I was surprised to see my hand move up to stop his, my ringless finger on full display. Years of wear left a tan line, but a ringless finger did nothing to protect me from advances like this. _Damn me for tossing that ring_ , I thought. At least I could've passed off as separated from my husband in the dark.

"You will not touch me, _sir_." I spat as I shook free of his grasp. "I am here as a guest of the Mackenzie, and he WILL hear of this if you dare lay another hand on me." Dougal paused a moment, his grey-blue eyes amused.

"Ye have a viper's tongue, Mistress." He brusquely moved aside, allowing me to retreat down the staircase, and nearly into the arms of another Mackenzie clansman. I marched through the bustling mid-morning chores in the courtyard, out to the pastures. My breath still caught in my throat from the encounter. There, I found mop-headed Jamie locking up the gorgeous red steed from the week before. His face had healed fine, the faint yellow of old bruises nearly dissipated.

"Claire!" He called cheerily. "Ye keek shaken. Is everything a'richt?" The sharp angles of his face softened as he took in the gaunt look of terror on my face. His cheery disposition turned into genuine concern. _A good man_ , a part of me whispered. _He is a good man_.

I reached up to touch the remaining bruising on his face. "You should've listened to me when I suggested leeches to lessen the bruising."

"Ack, I wouldnae dare put one o' they creatures near me." He gave me a crooked smile. "Ah kin tell that yer avoiding something, gob it oot." I sighed, walked over to a bale of hay and plopped down on it, hearing the satisfying crunch of the dry bale. Jamie paused before setting down next to me, careful not to sit on my forest green wollen skirts. We sat in silence a moment, and I could hear the same whispered from deep down. _A good man. Jamie McTavish is a good man._

"Jamie, I am just not sure if I want to stay here. I feel like it is my only option. To stay and live under Colum's thumb, within Dougal's grasp, or to live in danger and fear. What if the officer... that Black Jack Randall..." I spat that bastard's name. I wanted to spit on their whole lineage.

"That bassa will ne'er lay a haund on ye, ye hear? Nae while thare is breath in mah body." Jamie grimaced, not from pain but from the memory of the scars, not visible from under my gown. "Bit if 'ere insae whaur ye want to be, thare are ither clans, ither lairds who wid tak' ye in. A'm certain o' it." He noted, swigging water, or whisky, from the skin he kept on his belt.

As we chatted more and walked the green, rolling pastures some before heading back to Leoch, Jamie spotted them, like drops of blood seeping through the forest.

Redcoats.


End file.
